


earth boy

by capo (gliss)



Category: Free!
Genre: 8), Awkward First Times, M/M, Secretly a Virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2600417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gliss/pseuds/capo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a few minutes for them to get back into the groove, which for Makoto means more lube and letting Sousuke aimlessly rub his hands along his spine, his shoulder blades, and which for Sousuke means Makoto telling him to relax and just do what feels natural.</p><p>What feels natural for Sousuke at this point is to reacquaint himself with his right hand, so that isn’t working out too well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	earth boy

**Author's Note:**

> heyo, bottom makoto fest. i'm here to bring you a day three prompt: samezuka pairings.
> 
>  **warnings** if you're not into reading nsfw or awkward first times, this isn't the place for you. otherwise, please enjoy!

\--

 

 

 

Theory works for Sousuke. Theory makes sense for Sousuke. Theory provides comfort for Sousuke.

He’s trying to work backwards from here, because four minutes ago he and Makoto were just hanging out, wondering if they should go out for drinks, and now Makoto’s stripped naked face down on his pillow with two fingers up his ass.

How the fuck did they get _there_?

Makoto makes these… sounds. Low, airy sounds, kind of like he’s getting stabbed. Which Sousuke supposes he _is_ , except sexily. The picture before his very eyes is pretty hot - Makoto’s skin all tanned from the summer sun, freckles on his back, straining muscles. He’s not bothering to look back at Sousuke or anything, which is a little weird, but Sousuke guesses that his pillow smells nice - he sneaks Rin’s shampoo sometimes, even though Rin always knows and always calls him out for it, until Rin one upped him altogether and snuck a bottle into his luggage when he moved to Tokyo - and doesn’t comment on it. How would he ask, anyway?

This brings him back to the fundamental question at hand: how did they get there?

Cocktails are nice, he remembers Makoto saying, kind of wistfully, I had this peach cherry apple strawberry thing a few weeks ago at the Italian place three blocks down from campus.

That’s nice, he remembers telling Makoto, because they’re friends but they’re not like, _those_ kinds of friends. Only Rin would appreciate exactly what he had to say about cocktails. Which was (and still is, probably) pretty much nothing, since he preferred hard and pure liquor.

The sun’s setting, Makoto said next, and - ah.

That was it.

Sousuke fidgets with the waistband of his boxers, which had been riding up annoyingly the entire afternoon, and now sits a comfortable two inches or so above the already too-high-for-his-tastes line of his jeans.

Let’s kiss, Makoto had said after that, and Sousuke shrugged and kind of thought, why not? and - well, his mind is still blanking out on what happened between that and _this_ , but he’s getting a little closer.

Makoto pauses to smear more lube across his fingers, whining a little as he does so, offering Sousuke a beautiful, intimate look at where his fingers had just been. Sousuke squints in concern.

“Makoto,” he says, cautious, because theory always tells him to air on the side of calm rather than panic, “I think something is wrong.”

“H-huh? What? What’s wrong? Did you want the lube?”

His voice still sounds mostly like Makoto, worried and gentle even with this kind of lacey breathlessness to it, a certain kind of sleepiness to it. Sousuke decides that nothing freakish regarding clones has happened, and he aimlessly clenches his fist before speaking again, noting that the pitch of his voice has dropped at least half an octave.

“No, uh, it’s… your, umm, it’s kind of red.”

Makoto has the good perception to stop fingering himself and sit up and turn around.

That’s when Sousuke realizes that there’s sweat rolling down the side of his face, even though he hasn’t been doing anything.

The color drains out of Makoto’s face.

The color similarly drains out of Sousuke’s face.

“Sousuke… this is really rude of me, I know, and I’m really very sorry, but for the sake of, uh, avoiding even more embarrassment, I need to know something.”

He’s going to ask how hard I am, Sousuke starts to think wildly, and then flinches in alarm when he feels his dick twitch. Fuck.

“Are you a virgin?” Makoto asks, kindly - almost. Gently. With a look of strong understanding on his face, like no matter what Sousuke says, the answer will be the right and ultimately embarrassing one.

Sousuke almost melts in relief. “Yeah?”

“Oh my god,” Makoto whispers, the color rushing back into his face. “Oh my god I’m so sorry. I thought you. Uh. Weren’t? Because you know, your arms and stuff, but. I’m so sorry.”

“My arms?” Sousuke repeats.

“Yeah, just, look at them? You still work out, right?”

Somehow, workout talk makes him less fucking tense, so he settles and leans back against the wall and nods. “Yeah, of course.”

“Great! That’s great. I’m just going to go get cleaned up and we can forget this ever happened and go out for drinks, unless you never want to see me again, in which case I’ll just go get cleaned up and never see you again. I won’t even sit next to you in class on Tuesday.”

None of this makes very much sense to Sousuke, who’s still mostly just staring at Makoto’s torso, at the hard lines of muscle on his body and how nice his legs are. Smooth, too. The college swim team is doing wonders for his body - and this is the kind of body Sousuke kind of dreams about kissing, not the soft curves on the female actors in the porn he watches. But this. Hard, clean, battle-ready.

Surely Makoto feels the same way. Why else would all of this be happening?

Sousuke clears his throat. “Wait, uh.”

Makoto stills instantly. Apologetically.

“Aren’t you going to finish? You’re okay… down there, right?”

“... I’m fine,” Makoto replies. “Fine.”

“I’m fine too.”

“You want to continue,” Makoto says after a moment, the light of understanding catching in his eyes.

Something like that, Sousuke supposes.

“Something like that,” Sousuke says, and then decides that, yeah, why not? They’ve already kissed and it was fine. This can’t possibly get any worse.

-

It takes a few minutes for them to get back into the groove, which for Makoto means more lube and letting Sousuke aimlessly rub his hands along his spine, his shoulder blades, and which for Sousuke means Makoto telling him to relax and just do what feels natural.

What feels natural for Sousuke at this point is to reacquaint himself with his right hand, so that isn’t working out too well.

“Condom’s in the third desk drawer,” Makoto gasps out into the pillowcase, so Sousuke stops staring at the way Makoto’s fingers work and gets up to fish around in the drawer. “We’re about the same size, so they should be fine.”

“We are?” Sousuke has to ask.

“Y-yeah…”

“You were looking at my -”

“That’s generally what happens during sex,” Makoto explains, which makes Sousuke feel a little stupid because he _knew that_ , but watching it play out on screen and actually doing it in real life are two very different things. Nevertheless, he decides to trust in Makoto. Makoto’s never let anyone down. Makoto is safe and very, very much his type. He’s nice, too.

Sousuke feels a little better when he rolls the condom on, because this is the kind of thing he’s actually practiced before and it goes just fine, just like anything else he’s practiced.

“Okay,” he says, settling in between Makoto’s legs.

Makoto scoots backwards a little and reaches behind himself and wraps a hand around Sousuke’s dick.

Sousuke has exactly one point four-eight seconds to feel hysterical before Makoto carefully positions the both of them and then slides backwards neatly so that Sousuke’s about halfway in.

Sousuke’s hips jerk.

Makoto makes a noise that hasn’t happened on any of the porn Sousuke’s watched before. He can’t tell if it sounds good or bad, so he jerks his hips again to get a similar reaction, and this time Makoto yelps a little and drops his face into the pillow.

“Stop,” he grinds out, “stop moving for a few seconds and let me get used to you, please.”

“Oh,” Sousuke says, “sorry.”

“It’s hard, though.”

“I _know_ ,” Makoto sounds about as hysterical as Sousuke’s feeling, shifting around so that he can pull his fingers up on his own length. Sousuke’s mind supplies him with the phrase _coping mechanism_ and he quickly shuts his brain down completely. “I know, I can _feel_ it, since it’s _in me_.”

Oh, shit.

Oh, fuck, he’s inside Makoto.

That incredibly tight heat around his dick is _Makoto_.

Oh fuck.

“I, uh, I meant that it’s hard to stay still,” Sousuke says, feeling uncharacteristically very small.

“... oh,” Makoto responds. He shifts again and his breath hitches and it makes Sousuke start fucking leaking, which just feels weird as hell with a condom on, but this time Makoto’s breathing feels kind of… pleased. As if breathing could feel pleased at all. Sousuke clenches his jaw and forces himself to stay still just as Makoto rocks back a little further, pushing his ass flush against Sousuke’s hips and oh.

“Ohhhh,” Sousuke hears himself say, his voice all strangely soft and raspy. He kind of sounds like he’s about to die.

“You can move,” Makoto murmurs from somewhere around the pillow. Sousuke can feel both of them settling into something a little more comfortable, a little more like the sunset Makoto was talking about earlier. He places his hands loosely around Makoto’s hips.

Phase one complete, he thinks. Onto phase two.

-

Fucking a guy is not like fucking a girl.

Not that Sousuke has had any experience in either area, but he’s at least heard girls through walls and on screens and stuff. Usually the guy is kind of letting the girl just bounce on his lap, but since no one is on anyone’s lap and Makoto doesn’t look too keen on switching positions - and Sousuke will probably die if Makoto started riding him aggressively, in more ways than one - he’s just kind of half-heartedly pelvic thrusting.

Like in some kind of ritualistic mating dance.

Makoto hasn’t said anything for a while, which is...worrying, honestly.

At first he tried to give directions, clumsily, like, “try going a bit to your right” and “not so hard” and “it’s okay, just try again.” Sousuke followed them to the best of his ability, and it felt nice, but it was also just kind of. The same.

He swallows a little, looking intently at the curl of brown hair over the nape of Makoto’s neck, and wonders what it’d be like to just lick that spot. Is that sort of thing allowed? Should he just go for it? Everything else he’s gone for so far in the evening has pretty much just failed.

“Am I, uh, doing it right?” Sousuke asks after another vague sort of thrust.

“Huh… yeah,” Makoto replies as vaguely as the thrust, rocking back slightly. “Yeah… you’re doing fine.”

“Okay…”

Sousuke gives it another go, is met with another vague sort of reaction. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Yeah… it’s good… it’s, uh,” Makoto’s spine gives this twitch, which in turn makes Sousuke’s hips twitch, and then Makoto turns his head so that he isn’t suffocating himself into Sousuke’s pillow and he says, “it’s awesome sauce.”

“I’m sorry?” Sousuke has to ask, because what?

“It’s… awesome,” Makoto says.

Sousuke pauses.

He moves a little and the moan that Makoto lets out is so half-hearted and sad that he wilts a little.

“That bad, huh,” Sousuke says after a moment of embarrassed silence.

“Are you enjoying it, at least?” Makoto asks after another moment of embarrassed silence. His voice is soft and a little flat and the whole thing makes Sousuke want to die. Preferably in a condom, tossed into the trash.

“Not if you aren’t,” he admits.

He doesn’t know what would be worse, having Makoto amping it up and grinding back on him, moaning wildly, until Sousuke comes out of - sheer shock value, or something, or the way Makoto just eases himself off and gives his hipbone a friendly little pat and lets him toss out the condom.

When he sits himself gingerly back on the mattress and curls up into a ball, still naked, Makoto whispers an apology.

“Why are you apologizing?” Sousuke mumbles, trying to stare a hole into the wall so that he can vanish through it.

“I didn’t make your first time very good, did I?” Makoto asks faintly, but then he presses himself up behind Sousuke, nuzzling gently into the sliver of space between his neck and shoulder, and the warmth and solidarity and trust that comes with all the motion comes roaring back at Sousuke. He takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t make my first time that great, either,” he says.

Makoto makes a soft noise, one that Sousuke can understand this time, and then drapes his arms around Sousuke. They press together, naked and kind of cold and numb, letting the evening silence settle into the room for a few minutes. Sousuke’s close to falling asleep when Makoto suddenly noses into his hair and says, “wait.”

“Huh?”

“You didn’t finish…?”

“... yeah, no, I didn’t.”

“I didn’t either.”

Sousuke ponders this for a while.

“You mean -”

He flips around so that he can face Makoto, elbowing him in the process, but neither of them mind it. “Wait, you mean this didn’t really count?”

“I don’t think so,” Makoto agrees, using his sex expert knowledge, “oh, I know exactly what we can do!”

“Will it be traumatizing?” Sousuke has to make sure.

“No, no!” Makoto’s smile is blinding in its brightness. It’s a happy smile, showing some teeth. He licks his lips and for some reason that action alone has Sousuke getting hard all over again. “Not at all.”

-

So the verdict, Sousuke thinks as he’s rinsing out his mouth in the bathroom, is that he doesn’t necessarily need to stick his dick up something to call it sex.

When he comes out of the bathroom Makoto is dressed again, lounging in his bed, a sleepy smile on his face, his body loose and pliant and comfortable in his warm sweater and jeans and striped fish socks - shit, that’s cute.

“That was fun,” Makoto tells him softly, pleased.

“Yeah,” Sousuke agrees.

They were going to go out for drinks anyway, but instead of pulling on his shoes, Sousuke climbs back into bed as well, even though he has to untwist his shirt once he curls up around Makoto. Makoto lets him just slump over for a little bit, until his heart beat calms down again.

“We could use a little work on the multitasking,” Makoto says after a while.

“Huh. Yeah.”

“We can start kissing while we’re doing other things,” Makoto says again, after another while.

“Kissing is hard,” Sousuke mumbles, pressing on into Makoto’s neck.

Makoto just laughs, soft and happy, and then kisses him.

 

**end.**


End file.
